


A Singing Bird

by ofsevenseas



Category: Cinderella's Sister (Korean TV Show)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/F, The author would like you to know she is facepalming, Two girls and a kdrama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofsevenseas/pseuds/ofsevenseas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wildly AU recounting of how Eun-jo reconciles the presence of a new stepsister in her life.</p><p>As said in the tags, contains one short segment of dubious consent, femslash and much angst (it's a Korean melodrama, come on, that's practically a character all by itself).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Singing Bird

Hyo-sun's voice is one of the most annoying she has heard in her life: it twines around you and makes you listen, assertive in its certainty that she is both beloved and lovable, though she's just another runty teenaged girl who hasn't even the slightest idea of how the backhand of the world feels.

Every day feels like living on borrowed time, and Eun-jo wonders if Ki-hoon knows she can see how badly he's lying, through his teeth, and out the other side. Maybe he really does think people can change.

Eun-jo doesn't.

\---

At night Hyo-sun prattles on without pausing for breath, which Eun-jo supposes she should find more amazing, except five houses back there had been a man who'd muttered in her ear endlessly as well, and he was much less complimentary about what he said.

She tries ignoring her, she tries glaring, she tries harsh words and feigning sleep, but Hyo-sun just widens her eyes a little more, and goes on. Eun-jo tries to remember all the different ways her mother and the others had used to shut her up, but she's exhausted all the possibilities (save one). It would be impressive, if Eun-jo isn't so damn annoyed.

For a few days she succeeds at blocking Hyo-sun out by reviewing math in her head - but then Hyo-sun pulls her aside right before bed and says, almost shy, "You're always so tired, is something wrong?" She's toeing the ground like a nervous young colt, all fluttering lashes and naive charm, gradually twisting her feet into one of those freakish ballet positions Eun-jo usually only sees on TV.

It makes her want to push Hyo-sun's privileged little swan neck as far as she can bend it.

A tentative "Unni?" breaks into her rage at far too close a range -

"I'm fine!" She snaps off, and dives under the covers of her bed.

\---

She's such a fucking child it makes Eun-jo sick.

\---

She can feel her mother becoming more anxious by the day. Eun-jo hasn't stayed at the same school for longer than two months since she can remember, but she's not stupid. Her mother is, though she'll never believe it. The point is, Eun-jo knows her mother wants her to suck up to the family, to make everything look good until she's got the kindly papa eating out of her hand.

Eun-jo also knows, however, that if she doesn't provoke enough of a diversion, the kindly papa will start to think about the why and how of her mother's presence, and they can't afford that.

(It's probably wrong that she can outline a campaign of attack just from looking at a man for 30 minutes.)

(She should be thankful, she knows. It's saved her skin more than once.)

\---

One day her mother strikes her. It's not the first time and it certainly won't be the last, but to do it over a skinny little bitch who doesn't know the meaning of personal space and _can't bloody shut up_ is insulting. It makes her hands itch. In the previous places (she hesitates to call them homes) there was always something to do - she'd breathe in the eye-watering sting of peppers and onions while she chopped, or relish in the way chili mix squished under her fingers while preparing lettuce for kimchi, and perhaps if she was really lucky there would be fish to descale and gut, and she'd take pleasure in slowly pulling the thing apart...

... now she has math exercises. They're a poor substitute.

Hyo-sun may be a secret masochist, actually, since she seeks her out almost immediately after being thrown violently to the ground.

There's a bandage on her hand (probably lovingly placed there by her lying bitch of a mother, and then kissed and crooned over for good measure) and a little redness left over from crying. Eun-jo knows she looks squinty and puffed after crying - she's checked - but Hyo-sun manages to up the level of pitiful princesshood up to 11.

God, she hates her.

"I know you don't like me much, and that's okay, you can hate me as much as you want, but don't force yourself to make me hate you as well."

Strike that. She's not a masochist, just dumb.

Eun-jo turns around, looks her straight in the eye. And here's the thing that gets to her the most: most people who meet her stare head-on immediately go limp. The handful that don't eventually wilt under the strength and endurance of her utter scorn, but Hyo-sun just looks back. It's not vacant; vacant's easy to ignore. It's almost like she's just waiting for you to come around to her point of view.

Or sticking her neck out for slaughter.

Eun-jo laughs around the lump in her throat, and shuts the door behind her. She walks just slightly too close to Hyo-sun, and shoves her back onto her bed. She climbs on, and stares at Hyo-sun from above until the other girl turns her head sideways.

It doesn't take that long.

She traces a hand down the side of her face, down to where the school-issue bowtie holds her shirt closed, and undoes the clasp. Eun-jo's on her third button when Hyo-sun's breath hitches, sudden realization dawning on her face. She dares the other girl to speak, waiting, actually, for her to run out screaming to her daddy.

Nothing happens.

Well, this is where 14-year-old Eun-jo and present-day Hyo-sun part ways, Eun-jo thinks, and opens the shirt mercilessly.

The bra is rather more padded than she'd expected, her breast making a shy handful in her left palm. Eun-jo breathes over the pebbled nipple, just to be cruel, moves her mouth away to kiss and lick her way down to Hyo-sun's navel and then back again. She tries an experimental nip on a sharp hipbone, and shifts her right hand slowly down Hyo-sun's side while licking at her ear, hand stopping at the uniform skirt as if pausing to take it off.

She keeps her left hand where it is, thumb gently rubbing a circle, perhaps to soothe.

Hyo-sun's eyes are clenched shut, and little puffs of breath move her hair, as if in anticipation.

Victory feels like she's just finished a marathon. Leaning closer to Hyo-sun, she whispers, "Grow up, princess."

\---

That night, there is blissful silence from the other bed.

\---

The next day, over breakfast, her mother looks at her like she did the time Eun-jo cut up a particularly expensive shirt for bandages. Wannabe-papa just sighs and sighs, like he thinks she can't hear or something. She slurps her porridge on purpose.

Both Ki-hoon and Hyo-sun are noticeably absent, probably for more cuddling and reassurances. She feels vaguely insulted.

When she and her mother are alone, she nearly pulls a muscle hissing at Eun-jo to behave and not ruin a good thing when she has it.

Eun-jo wonders if her mother will ever wake up and realize that they'll always be the ones in the wrong. It's just the way their lives are written.

\---

One night she wakes up and hears - oh dear god no - sniffling. Honest to goodness sniffling, like Eun-jo had actually done something horrible instead of teaching her that life isn't all unicorns and rainbows. She turns around in bed, making sure to rustle the covers extra loud so Hyo-sun will get the message.

She stops.

Good.

A minute later she sniffles again. Eun-jo lets her go on for another stretch before getting up and wrenching the covers off Hyo-sun. As expected, the brat's curled up under them, and her eyes are red.

She's irritable, and they have a test on the day after, so Eun-jo feels little compunction in demanding, "Are you going to shut up?"

Hyo-sun blinks up at her, tears still leaking out the edges, and whatever idiot urges compelled her to welcome a gold-digging snake (read: her new stepmother) with open arms have apparently said mean big sisters who shove really hard and _molest you_ are now also allowed. (Eun-jo plans to find a mental health clinic and slip the brochure to Ki-hoon as soon as possible. He seems to be the only one with sense in the house.)

Eun-jo slaps the open, needy arms away, "I don't care. Stop crying or do it somewhere else."

"I c-can't," Hyo-sun hiccups, "Unni's so strong, but I c-can't not c-cry and I'm s-sorry-"

Oh god, it's like she actually _is_ seven years old.

Eun-jo slaps her to shut her up. "You think crying's going to solve your problems?" Hyo-sun looks a little stunned, so Eun-jo pulls her up by one of her outstretched arms. "If you can't tell me you have a problem to my face, then suck it up." She takes that pointy little chin between her fingers, and says with deadly calm, "Crying is for losers, Hyo-sun. Don't let me catch you doing it again."

There.

Eun-jo falls asleep to the thought of hanja vocabulary.

\---

Hyo-sun doesn't come home with her that afternoon, which is to be expected, though when she mentions this casually to Ki-hoon he looks at her. Really looks, like he thinks she knows what's going on better than he does. She doesn't get that look a lot.

Eun-jo tries on her best glare for good measure, but he just smiles at her, eyes all crinkled at the edges, and opens his mouth to say -

Then Hyo-sun shuffles in, quietly, mutters an incoherent apology, and then heads to bed.

Eun-jo stares at Ki-hoon when he takes the books out of her hands and piles them neatly on the desk. "Go on," he urges, smiling again. "We were done anyway."

\---

She takes the time during her shower to figure out what exactly she's supposed to do, aside from taking Hyo-sun on her lap and giving her a good spanking. When she finally enters their room, Eun-jo locks the door behind her.

Hyo-sun's not letting the covers go this time, and while Eun-jo is equal to the tugging contest that ensues, the comforter cover doesn't fare so well. A loud ripping sound covers up Eun-jo's grunt of surprise as she lands on Hyo-sun's knobby school shoes. Ow.

Hyo-sun's staring at her with those huge wounded gazelle eyes, squeaking out "You're not fair!" in the same breath. Eun-jo jumps up and takes a handful of Hyo-sun's school uniform in her hand, shoving her all the way against the headboard, and she registers the other's flinch just in time to avoid slapping her. Eun-jo takes a deep breath, then another one. She waits until she doesn't want to take a broom to Hyo-sun's ass to speak. "Does it look like I care?"

It's like the lights going out, the way Hyo-sun slumps suddenly.

The way she's slumping is also very strange, but so very familiar, though Eun-jo hadn't expected to see it on her.

When her hands reach for the maroon bowtie, Hyo-sun looks up so fast she bangs her head against the headboard and winces. Eun-jo pins her in place with the fiercest glare she has in her arsenal and tosses the piece of silk away.

She eases the shirt off, careful of the elbows, rubbed raw, and notes another two bruises on her side - it looks like she got kicked a few times too. Hyo-sun kicks off the skirt and socks herself, with a rebellious look in her eyes. The enormous sense of relief that comes she sees there aren't any signs of a real intent to maim surprises Eun-jo a little.

Eun-jo levers herself up to get the first-aid kit, but Hyo-sun shakes her head mutely. It's stupid, but Eun-jo's not the one who's going to be suffering the aches, so she sits back down again.

Just to make sure she knows what refusing salve is going to feel like, Eun-jo finds a particularly large bruise near her ribs and _presses_ with all four fingers. Predictably, Hyo-sun yelps, though the resulting kick in the leg isn't so gratifying. Even less so is the look of absolute terror on her face.

Eun-jo saves the annoyance for later, and tries something she remembers her mother doing when she was still small enough to care. Hyo-sun convulses from laughter, involuntarily and surprised, then counterattacks.

Hours later, Eun-jo looks at the pink bra on the floor, cherries printed all over it with wild abandon, then turns back to the bed with Hyo-sun's hair fanned out on the pillow.

Yeah, right. Eun-jo doesn't know a thing.

\---

Some brat shoves her in the hallway after lunch, and she recognizes Hyo-sun's expensive (yet so useless) princessy sports watch on someone else's wrist.

She pushes the idiot into the wall with enough force to make both their jaws rattle, and growls out, "Today, after school, yard."

Eun-jo hopes the message is clear. It's not like she does this very often, rumours to the contrary.

\---

They're all in the year above, and have that faint air of Eau de Slut, or whatever perfume is trendy right now. The leader has curls and big wide eyes and all the right accessories, but somehow manages to completely fail the princess look anyway. They do have rather impressive sneers, though, and she stores them away in her memory for use later.

There's the usual crap about not knowing who her father is, and how she's a sullen bitch and no one likes her anyway, but when they say Hyo-sun's an idiot who can't find her way out of a wet paper bag, and needs to see the errors of her ways, Eun-jo can actually feel her blood pressure rising.

Nobody, but nobody, messes with her Hyo-sun.

It takes a while for her to backtrack and realize that those words actually made it out of her head through her throat and all the way into the air between them. The girls are sitting on the ground as one, shocked and bleeding (okay, maybe she does use too much force - it's not her fault, her muscles remember having to fend off heavier people, that's all).

The next day she watches them with narrowed eyes and is pleased to note that she doesn't even have to use a single curled lip. They all skitter away from the classroom windows the moment she turns her head in their direction.

Eun-jo feels a little like Eight-and-a-half-fingered ajusshi's prized Rottweiler.

\---

She puts the watch on Hyo-sun's pillow.

In retrospect, that was a mistake. She should have just tossed it at Hyo-sun's large forehead in the courtyard, or something.

She'd put in another session of torture-in-the-guise-of-math (Eun-jo would swear that's grade 11 stuff, but she's not saying anything unless Ki-hoon does) and gone to bed like normal, sane people not afflicted with brain-rotting idiocy, and then a giant elephant lands on her chest.

Oh wait. No, that's Hyo-sun, sitting disturbingly near her chest, and being surprisingly heavy for someone who's about the size of a pair of chopsticks.

She tries for annoyed. "Go away."

Hyo-sun actually squeals before, _what the hell?_, wriggling under her covers. Her hands are really cold, even through a layer of pajamas, and Eun-jo can feel where the band-aid on her palm is rubbing against her stomach. (And that band-aid has been there for more than a week - Eun-jo wants it noted so that when Hyo-sun's hand falls off from an actual infection no one can say they didn't see it coming.)

She stays there the entire night, burbling and drooling in her sleep.

\---

Eun-jo wonders blearily, in the morning sun, whether dumping Hyo-sun on her butt would wake her up.

\---

Her mother's been giving her funny looks during dinner, probably trying to get her alone, but she eats while staring straight at her mother's earlobe and grabs Hyo-sun by the neck collar when she finishes. The girl protests, but allows herself to be dragged off to tutoring. One of her flailing arms hits Eun-jo on the stomach and they both still, Hyo-sun looking up at her with an endearing mix of panic, mischief and adoration. Eun-jo huffs, and takes a few more steps forward before Hyo-sun picks herself up and slings an arm across her shoulders, babbling happily about some sleepover or another.

She's going to make life horrible, Eun-jo can see it now.

**Author's Note:**

> Err, may have made Eun-jo into more of a psychopath than she really is - I wanted young, teenaged, hurting, and got, well, the above. (Then again, psychologists say all teenagers profile like psychopaths, so maybe I'm not too far off the mark.)
> 
> By Wednesday next week all this will be reduced to smithereens by the new episode but at least I'll have excised the femslash from my system. Needless to say, I am shocked, _shocked_, I say, that my first smutfic involved two girls and a kdrama.


End file.
